Discovery
by Guardian Arrow
Summary: Or would he turn out like him - hands soiled by history that wrote only in ink? A reflective England. Based loosely off the "Battle for America" scanlations.


Title: Discovery  
Author/Artist: silverskies0117  
Character(s) or Pairing(s): UK (Arthur), America (Alfred)  
Rating: G  
Warnings: Reflective. Extremely short fiction. Other than that, nothing to be worried about.  
Summary: Sometimes a discovery results in something worth more than treasure.

***Please read the author's notes for writing prompt.

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Author's Notes:

I thought of writing a fic after reading a short paragraph in the magazine _British Heritage_. The article was called "Our Sceptered Isle" and it focused on the relationship between Britain and America and also the British Union. However, it was this short blurb that struck me as interesting:

"_At this point in our mutual history, though, there really is a lesson that Britain could learn from this rebellious child. Much has been written about Britain's ongoing soul-searching for its identity. While Great Britain has never conceived of itself and the union of its peoples as a federation, America solved the dilemma of its identity this way."_

Please pardon my limited knowledge on the British Union. I mainly focus on Britain's beginning relationship with America and possible thoughts that the empire might have been thinking as it picked up another child to foster.

This fic was also inspired by countless wonderful community artworks that have been done on England and chibi!America as well as the "Battle for America" scanlations. Thank you for your inspiration!

Please pardon my grammar and sometimes odd methods of spacing. I hope you enjoy it!

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Discovery

~*~

"_The voyage of discovery is not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes." _

_-Marcel Proust_

_~*~_

He waited for the self fulfillment to come - the satisfaction that many beads of sweat and droplets of blood that had been so laboriously spent for this moment weren't in vain. He wanted to hear it, taste it, feel the result of his efforts. He wanted the accomplishment, a pat on the back, a well voiced "Huzzah" to come.

It never did.

The sands of the American shore crushed beneath his boots and the wind caressed his hair, drying his eyes. Silence resounded in front of him and the ocean lapped hungrily on the shore behind him. He was trapped by his own means in a world unknown to him. Great trees towered towards the sky, creating vast canopies to green alight with twittering birds and the whispering of leaves. He wondered what animals made this strange land their home and dared imagine the thought of people dwelling in this ever present silence.

He hoped he was adequately prepared. He brought provisions for his men who now scoured the tree lines, not sure if their own eyes beheld reality or illusion. He was currently not dressed properly, previously shedding a coarse linen tunic for something more soft and breathable. But, as he looked longingly into the expanse of the forest, he'd risk it, a possible encounter with France or even animals, just to see if he could find something more substantial than what his men sought.

It was freeing in a way as he stepped over fallen trees and heard the soft padding of his boots against the damp earth. London was growing ever crowded and new machines took to the city, spewing choking contents into the air. Here the air was crisp, uninhibited by nature, untouched by the soiled hands of man.

Maybe it could be called ironic. His hands were soiled with countless follies and sins just as any other. His growing competitions with Spain, his constant feuds with France, and even his own political scene… his hands had long been bloodied by both friends and foes.

His heart thumped hesitantly against his rib cage. He shouldn't be here. He would be no better than the ones he detested. He would defile this precious land with both his and his people's ambitions.

The tree line finally broke, opening up into a field of long golden strands. He stared at the land transfixed as they swayed in a rhythmic dance to the wind, tickling his finger tips as he walked arms outstretched amongst their own kingdom.

He stopped. Before him stood a young boy, clad in a wispy white gown, his hair likening to the gold that nature had graced the land. He looked at home as he stood before England unhesitatingly, blue eyes as wide and consuming as the sky.

Could this be what he was looking for? This boy could be the discovery his empire had long been waiting for. Would he do him justice? Or would he turn out like him – hands soiled by history that wrote only in ink?

Could this boy help him find himself?

Discoveries and wars had left him weary and lost. This ethereal golden world … could it replace the lantern that he shed in the past in hopes of a future?

An outstretched hand and a smile greeted him, the warmth tickling at his frosted heart as the words melted in his ears.

"You came. I'm glad you did."

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Thanks for reading! Reviews are greatly appreciated! : )


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